I clean the house, as is my daily ritual. Dusting the ornaments, polishing the silver, folding the laundry. I am in the kitchen, mixing cake mixture for a local coffee morning when I glance out to see Alfredo mowing the lawn. I watch him from behind the glass kitchen door.
My hand almost involuntarily moves to touch myself through my dress. I have not felt arousal like this in years, my husband barely looks at me. I can’t believe how good it feels. Cautiously at first but then I get braver, moving the layers of crinoline out of the way, feeling my wetness, begging to be touched.
With no panties to get in the way, I run my finger gently over myself, stroking the curve of my thigh, the elastic of my stocking – all the while watching his strong arms as he chops wood with an axe.
I am so turned on I close my eyes and go into a dream-like state, he is next to me, encompassing me, guiding my hands towards his cock. I can almost smell his sweat. My eyes pop open… and there he is in front of me, axe in hand, sweat trickling down his chest.
